Mrs. Branch


She DID sometimes flash the dads who drove us home from babysitting. They’d hint about how most people kept their sylphs naked, or something, obviously angling for a glimpse. They always did this before discussing payment. Kind of blackmail.

Electra would scoop one or both tits out into view, and then she’d claim a quarter of the money we got.

I know, sylphs have no rights to property and cannot engage in commerce, so there was no legal basis for her getting a share of the babysitting profits.

But there’s a risk to owning a pet who can tell your parents exactly how much time you REALLY put in on that essay for the college application. She gets a taste so she shuts her trap.

That first night at Mrs. Branch’s, after the kids were tucked in, and the glass of water delay had been dealt with AND Electra showed them ‘one last flip,’ I still had the gym set up, waiting for Mrs. Branch to come home.

“Hey, Conrad, watch this!” I looked up from my paperback of Shakespeare insults to watch.

Electra ran across the kitchen table, vaulted over the first bar, briefly stood on the second. did a handstand over the third, turned around, swung down and back up, then flipped from the third all the way to the first bar.

It looked to me like she almost missed that, but caught it, flipped around and then did three somersaults in the air to land on her feet.

“And the crowd goes wild!” she boasted. I obediently went wild.

“Yaay! What do you call that, a Backflip?”

She lowered her arms and stared at me. It was a condescending look of utter loathing. “Yes, Conrad,” she hissed. “It was a back. Flip.”

“Well, you did it great!” I tried to sound enthusiastic to make up for not knowing shit about her sport. She didn’t let it work, turning her back on me.

I pet her hair a bit, stroking her shoulders and back. “Okay, I don’t know the terminology, but you were pretty amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said, starting to soften. I should have shut up. I mean, the petting was working, but no, Conrad has to keep talking to show he’s a nice guy. A little feedback to show that he’s interested, that she’s interesting.

“So, I take it a real gymnast couldn’t have done that?”

“I AM a real gymnast!” she squeaked. She stomped her little foot and stormed across the table to sulk in the carrier.

“Fucking whoops,” I said.

“I’m telling MOM!” she shrieked through the doorway.

“I will not be blackmailed,” I said. “Although, by purest coincidence, I HAD thinking of upping your share to twenty percent.”

Electra stepped back out into view, arms crossed, eyes on the horizon. “Twenty?”

“Consider it profit sharing,” I said.

“Even without flashing?” she persisted. She was talking about the fact that there was no Mr. Branch. Mrs. Branch was a single parent, so once she returned, and could be with the kids, we’d be walking home. No chance to extort a little flash money in my parents’ driveway.

“Even without,” I promised. I held up my hand as if holding a dart. “Cross my dart and hope to high,” I intoned, gesturing as if lobbing the invisible dart into the air.

“Okay,” she said slowly. Then she ran to the end of the table and started practicing again.

Mrs. Branch came home soon after that. When the door opened I started to take the gym equipment down.

“No, no,” she said. “No hurry. I heard all about Electra’s flipping and flying.” She sat down in the chair across the table from me. She actually kind of fell down into the chair.

I thought she might be a little drunk.

Electra shrugged and continued to play around on the bars and humps and whatevers.

I put my insults book in the bag, with the homework I always intended to work on but never got around to…

Mrs. Branch sighed. “You know, I used to be into gymnastics.” She reached out and almost touched Electra with a finger, pulling it back at the last second.

Then she shook herself and reached out again. Her hand was flat on the table. I think my sylph was showing off a bit as she jumped, flipped, and landed on the woman’s palm.

She smiled up proudly at the woman holding her. Mrs. Branch lifted her thumb to stroke my sylph’s legs. Slowly. Electra’s smile faded.

“So, little sylph,” she softly murmured. “When you’re not entertaining other people’s children. What does your master make you do?”

“Make?” I repeated. “Not much. She already knows more tricks than I could teach her.”

“I mean…” She leaned down to my now-anxious sylph. “Sexy? Does he… Force you?”

“No, ma’am,” Electra said. “We got a big lecture from his mom about people who molest their pets.”

“And what did she threaten you with?” Mrs. Branch asked. “Maybe a… beating?”

“No,” I snorted. “Another lecture.”

The lady stroked as high as the taut little ass, then shook herself. She tilted her hand and Electra stepped down to the table, then ran into the carrier.

“What did we say, fifteen dollars?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I started dismantling the gym for real.



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Index

1. Electra

3. Diagnosis